


Backyard Bliss

by TriplePirouette



Series: Tactical Insertions [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Steggy Week 2k20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: A little snapshot of summer with Steve and Peggy. Written for Tumblr's Steggy Week 2k20 Day 1: Domestic Bliss
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: Tactical Insertions [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/477766
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56
Collections: Steggy Week





	Backyard Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> For Steggy Week ’20 on Tumblr Day 1: Domestic Bliss. Set in my Tactical Insertion universe, but it isn’t necessary to know anything about that series. Steve’s alive and living with Peggy post WWII in a house Howard Stark bought for them.

“Fuck me!”

Peggy couldn’t see him, but she knew that exclamation of frustration, and she was feeling it herself as she fought with a fitted sheet. “Language, please,” she shouted from behind the bed sheet she was trying to hang on the drying line outside their house, “We’re in suburbia now, not the trenches.”

Steve’s laugh from the other side of the yard was quickly replaced by another muffled curse. Peggy peaked past the billowing blue sheet to see Steve on the other side of the yard, fingers in his mouth as he winced in pain, kicking ineffectually at the lawnmower. “Are you alright?”

“Pull start caught my finger,” he muttered around his finger before pulling it out of his mouth and shaking it vigorously. “Something’s wrong with it, damn thing won’t turn over.” 

Peggy tossed the pillowcase she had just picked up over her shoulder and took a few steps toward him. She took the hand he was still shaking in hers and gave the finger a quick look. “Still intact,” she threaded her fingers through his as she regarded the lawnmower next to him. “Can’t say the same for the mower after another kick or two from you.”

As Steve let their hands swing between them she could feel his tension start to drain. “No. I should probably call Howard. I’ve replaced every belt and blade I can see that might be the problem.”

“We could just take it to a repair shop,” Peggy kicked it herself, the heavy metal only making the slightest noise. 

“We haven’t had Howard over in a while, anyway.” Steve untangled his fingers and stepped forward, grabbing the handle of the mower and pushing it back toward the shed. “We can fix this then have a nice dinner.”

Her laugh was light as she turned back to her laundry, pulling the pillowcase of her shoulder as she spoke. “If you want a nice dinner, we should invite Mr. Jarvis as well.” She pulled a pin from the basket and began clipping the pillowcase up. “He’ll have to cook it, after all.”

Steve stepped out of the shed, hands on his hips as he looked at Peggy as she struggled with another large sheet on the line. “We’ll order out.”

Without another word he pulled out the small shovel and moved to their little garden, starting to weed. Peggy hummed, untangling laundry and smoothing it over the line in a gentle rhythm. Before she knew it her basket was empty and she was standing in the yard, a gentle breeze fluttering her linens just enough that every once in a while she got a glimpse of Steve crouched amongst their vegetables. 

It was so simple. So… domestic. It was the only word she could find, and yet as soon as she let it slide across her mind, it felt right. Years ago she shied from that, was afraid to be boxed in and held back by that one simple word. And now she was hanging laundry while the man she loved more than she could have possibly fathomed back then was on his hands and knees pulling weeds from between their tomato plants. She was planning dinner parties and shopping lists. Their day to day had become the little, mundane tasks she was so afraid would smother her years ago. 

With him, it didn’t feel mundane. It felt like they were building a life. 

It was a life that only a few years ago she never would have counted on actually being around for as they slept in tranches and dodged bullets daily. 

“Hey Peg?”

She let her eyes re-focus, snapping back from her thoughts and stepping through the laundry. “Yes?”

Steve stood, wiping the dirt from his hands and off his knees as she stepped closer to him. “What can you make with radishes?”

“Me? Likely nothing.” She laughed, brushing a smudge of dirt from his cheekbone. He kissed at her fingers as he stepped back to put the tools back into the shed and close it up for the night. “But they go in salads. And you can pickle them. Why?”

“Ask Jarvis for some recipes. Seems they’re the only thing we planted that the squirrels haven’t eaten.” Steve returned, putting an arm around her shoulder and steering her towards the house. “Remind me next year we should skip the garden.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Peggy bent, ducking out of his arm and picking up the laundry basket as they passed it. She followed Steve up to the back door and turned, looking at their small yard. She was feeling wistful today, and the setting sun was making her want a cup of tea and the wrap up in Steve’s arms on their porch swing. 

She started to speak when a car out front backfired, the loud noise like a bomb exploding in her ears. 

Her shoulders stiffened, her breath catching for a second, and before she could get another breath in her lungs Steve’s arms were wrapped around her from behind. “Just a car,” he whispered, waiting until she melted into his embrace. 

It didn’t bother her at work. It didn’t surprise her when they were shot at and chased and almost killed on a daily basis when she was waiting for it. It was when she was home, when there was a car backfiring or a kid playing with a firecracker and she wasn’t ready for it… that was when her vision blurred and her muscles stiffened and she felt like she needed to run and crouch behind the nearest piece of furniture, where her hand itched for a gun that isn’t at her hip and she was looking for a shield that’s locked up in their basement. “Just a car,” she mumbled, letting the feeling of Steve behind her ground her. She let her hands slide over his arms until she could lace her fingers in his, coming back to herself with each breath. 

He tightened his hold for a second, his chin resting against her shoulder. “Good?”

“Better.” Steve moved to unravel himself, but Peggy held tight. “Just another moment,” she whispered, feeling more and more like herself again. 

“As many as you need.” He dropped a small kiss on her neck, widening his stance so he didn’t have to lean down to hold her flat against his chest. 

She felt their breaths start to sync, felt the wind start to pick up around them and watched as it pushed through the laundry on the line. She thought about the garden and the lawnmower and the afternoon lunches under the tree in the back corner, and slowly felt nothing but happiness. 

“I love our life, darling,” she whispered, leaning back into him. 

He turned her in his arms, searching her eyes and pushing the wisps of hair off her face. “Even the broken lawnmowers?”

“Even the broken lawnmowers.” She leaned up, kissing him softly. His lips were warm and familiar, and it was easy to lose herself in them. She was so lost that she didn’t see the sky darken as his arms wrapped around her waist, and she didn’t notice that the wind that had been soft and billowing had started to kick up as Steve turned and lifted her, pressing her against the house as she wrapped her legs around his hips. She didn’t know the first few rain drops on her arms because she couldn’t tell the difference between them and the trails of wetness that came from the beads of sweat at the back of Steve’s neck from working in the heat of the summer afternoon. 

It was when the rain poured from the sky, a sudden summer deluge that started to soak through their clothes immediately, that her attention was on anything other than Steve. The rain was cold, and it caused her to squeal in his ear. 

He laughed at her shock as he put her back on her feet, trying to shield her from the rain as he reached for the door next to him. Before he could reach the handle, she had slipped away form him, pulling her dress back down over her hips as she rushed down to the line. “Bullocks! The bloody laundry!”

“Language!” He shouted as he raced behind her, joining her in pulling the soaked pieces from the line.


End file.
